Bryan and I went flyfishing yesterday. I don't have any photos because I was busy flyfishing, but as we were driving home through the Teanaway Valley, past Cle Elum and over Snoqualmie Pass, I was struck with a deep sense of gratitude at the beauty and variety within a couple hours of Seattle, and even within the city limits. In the past few months we've gone hiking and/or beach combing in Discovery Park, Golden Gardens, Meadowdale Beach Park, Ravenna Park, I ran a 5k at Magnuson Park, and I have a new appreciation for Northacres Park, which is walking distance from my condo. We've gone camping on Orcas Island and at Lake Wenatchee State Park, we drove to Deception Pass and Whidbey Island last weekend, the Yakima River and Teanaway Valley yesterday, and Friday I spent a magical day with two of the loveliest friends out on the Olympic Peninsula. We visited the lavender fields in Sequim, the Dungeness Spit, and my favorite of all, the Lake Crescent Lodge, tucked in amidst the forest and freshwater fjords of Olympic National Park. The three of us, literature and magic lovers all, sat in Adirondack chairs sipping French mimosas, breathing in the beauty of this Enduring Place that invites one "onward and upward" in thought and in spirit. This must be a taste of what is to come.
In this season I find myself, without a patch of earth to call my own and to steward toward Edenic order and bounty, while people in the city are building houses in the backyards of other houses, forever annihilating the private green spaces of the already dense neighborhoods, and while my feet spend most of their hours three stories above the earth, disconnected and cut off from its vitality and potential, I have been extravagantly blessed by the wild places. And today, inspired by Wendell Berry and his admonition that a good solution should use what is at hand, be inexpensive, and be beneficial to all involved, I planted something. I had a few terra cotta pots, some potting soil, and sunflower seeds left from our wedding, so Amelia and I planted ten little nascent flowers, watered them well, and sat back to wait. Someone said to me recently that gardening is faith. It's a fitting theme for this season: waiting and faith. And someday soon I'll have my patch of earth, to God be the glory.